I am a perfectionist. I am particular, generally, about the way things appear. Especially things that I create. I care about appearances. I like being in control of those things. I like knowing how I want a thing to look, and being able to make it look that way.
But I swear, the first thing that’s going to go when I have the income to support it is doing my own covers and interiors. I’m going to get someone who does it professionally or train someone to do it to my standards. Either one – I’m not picky. It’s such a time suck.
Last night, I didn’t do anything toward publishing. I have to do the final layout portion of my cover still, and instead, I dug a hole in Minecraft. It’ll be a slime farm, so I dug a hole with purpose, but it was still a hole. It was fun, with a decent pickaxe. Then just before bed, I managed 372 fiction words (for a total of 670 total words). Those 372 words broke me out of that death spiral chapter I was stuck in (I hope) and can get me back on track.
The rest of the day was fine, too. This morning everyone is sluggish except for me, who got the benefit of an alarming wake-up call in the form of a rocketing cat knocking things off the side table and using my hip as a launchpad. To where I do not know. But I am awake, so I’m grateful for that.
Good morning, Friday!
I have oodles of new books in my house, including a couple new copies of my book (which are wrapped as gifts to discourage me from fawning over them unnecessarily), and I have no idea when I’m going to have time to read them all.
Henchgirl will probably go the fastest. I read about it on Bust, and then when I purchased it I got a free comic from Amazon (X-23: The Complete Collection Vol. 1). Since that was an ebook, I finished that one quickly. I can also see Blubber (Judy Blume) on my shelves, along with Starship Troopers (Robert A. Heinlein), whose rules for writing I try to follow. That doesn’t even count the tons of educational/motivational/psychological books I have (ten, at least, with more hiding elsewhere) that I want to read “for work”, and the oodles of books that movies have been based on that I pick up and never seem to get to.
Ah, the TBR pile. I loves you. (We’re not going to think about the books I have on Kindle I need to consume. That would just be overwhelming.)
Yesterday I actually tried to write a bit, but only came out with 99 fiction words and 202 total words. I spent a meager 0.25 hours on publication where I came up with a slightly better book blurb for A Brief History. That’s all I have to say about that.
That’s all I have to say about all of it, actually. Have a lovely Thursday.
The only thing I did really well yesterday was sleep – eight hours and ten minutes worth. Thank you, fitbit. I loves you, too.
I didn’t write. I didn’t publish. I blogged, but that was it. I’m experimenting with not commenting on the photos I post not for any real artsy reason, but because I thought it might be interesting to consume the photos without any context aside from the ALT text, which I try to fill in every time.
I hung out with friends for about 90 minutes then headed for home, where I began sleeping. It was nice. I feel rested.
I dread to think what the house would be like with only two cats. I’d probably feel obliged to break up every fight I come across. Instead, I watch, make sure nobody bleeds, and go about my business. It’s probably helping me relax with the kids, where I also need to learn to not break up every fight I come across, but just make sure nobody’s bleeding or making cheap shots.
At any rate! Hai. I’ve been struggling with a book cover for a few days now. I had an idea in mind, and I haven’t been able to make it happen. Last night I kind of gave up and just went a different-ish direction. I think I might need one or two more tweaks, and then again, maybe I just need to leave it.
I didn’t write any fiction words yesterday. I did write 529 total words (the header is wrong), including posting Space Cats for Space here on the blog with synopsis, lovely featured image that matches the cover, and a chapter excerpt (not the first chapter, actually). And I spent a few hours on the cover.
I also spent a little time at the mall. Thankfully, that was over quickly, and the mall was empty. It’s the only time to go, I think, when one must.
Sarah just wants to write enough books to quit her day job. She does not want police officers to come to her door. She does not want some idiot to total her car. In fact, she really ought to stay away from cars altogether.
Except that’s not how Sarah’s life is working out. She’s got four cats, and they can talk. To her.
And they’re dragging her down their rabbit hole of intrigue and secrets, whether she wants to go or not. Now the question is whether Sarah is willing to accept this new world and the talking cats that come part and parcel, or if she wants the entire situation to return across space from whence it came.
Barnes & Noble (coming soon!)
“Why does she do that?” Blinky asked quietly in his language to his brother. Had Sarah overheard, she would have noticed only a small half purr-grunt from the feline.
But she was absorbed in her project. Or maybe just pretending to be absorbed.
“Do what?” Pinky asked. “Talk to us, when she thinks we don’t understand? Negotiate, instead of just getting the job done?”
“Both, I suppose,” Blinky replied. “It’s confusing.”
“She’s human,” Pinky pointed out “Who knows why they do anything?”
Inky sauntered in from the kitchen, his head high and his ears forward. Blinky and Pinky blinked slowly at him as he entered. They watched him wind around Sarah’s leg for a moment, and then when that didn’t elicit any direct attention, he looked at the two of them.
The small, probing meow elicited no response from their human but called the two brothers lying on the sofa to attention.
“We need to meet,” Inky told them before turning to trot up the stairs.
Pinky looked at his less bold brother, bit him, and leapt off the sofa, racing after their captain.
Blinky just sighed. He took the time to stretch before standing and crossing the room to watch Sarah for a moment.
She was indeed quite determinedly typing away on her antique computer. Well, Blinky reflected, antique to him. For Sarah, it was only two or three years old. Disposable, even by human standards. Technologically out of date, but still functional and socially acceptable.
Blinky heard Inky call for him from upstairs, impatient, so he followed the sound of thundering feet that left the upstairs bathroom and ended in the master bedroom.
He arrived in the room that smelled most like their human, and thus was his favorite place to be. No one had yet claimed her pillow as his seat, so Blinky did. In doing so, he absorbed more of her scent into his fur. He would carry it around for the rest of the day, no matter how many fights he stumbled into, and no matter how much he bathed.
Blinky would not admit to having a crush on their human. Not even to himself.
“We’re ready for the Revelation in two days time,” Inky began without preamble. “We landed with the ideal subject. She has been responsive to every test. I am confident that everything will go smoothly.
“But I believe in preparing for the worst just as we hope for the best,” Inky continued.
Blinky watched their captain pace along the faded red bedcover that Sarah preferred. He wondered if Inky seemed a little on edge to anyone else.
Was he telling the whole truth?
“Blinky, if Sarah naps at all for any reason over the next two days, see if you can work in an extra session.”
Blinky nodded and flexed his paws reflexively.
“Pinky,” Inky snapped.
Pinky, who had been examining the area where his testicles had been a month previously, snapped his head up and his leg down. “Yes, Captain?”
“Make sure we’re set on supplies, and that our science is sound. I want you to double and triple check that this is the right time for the Revelation. Make sure we’re not missing anything.”
“You got it,” Pinky replied, relaxing, and resuming his grooming.
Blinky watched the largest of their litter lift his head. “I’ve double and triple-checked our transportation off planet,” Clyde replied before Inky could ask. And when the captain nodded sharply and took another breath to deliver additional instructions, their Engineer continued speaking. “There are enough nanites built up in your system for the transfer. I’ve just straightened out the paperwork for our arrival back home. And Sarah’s been feeding us the good food again. Pinky did a bang-up job with his regurgitation to get us back with the prime stuff. He deserves a raise.”
Blinky grinned. Pinky’s vomit hadn’t been an act.
Pinky hissed. He hated any mention of the illness, and the subsequent smell they’d had to endure until Sarah had arrived home from work.
Inky barely held back his smile at the impertinent report.
Then again, Clyde was everyone’s favorite, Blinky thought fondly. And Pinky’s contribution, purposeful or not, had been helpful.
“Excellent. Just make sure you hide those damn nail trimmers today. If Sarah gets a chance to blunt my tips again, I’m going to have a real problem with delivery.”
Clyde nodded, and lay his head back on the bed.
“Then I suppose that’s all I have. I’m very proud of all of you,” Inky added. “We’re going to go back heroes.”
Blinky sighed as his three brothers left the bedroom, leaving him alone with his task. If Sarah took a nap, it would be in her bed. She felt the sofa was too uncomfortable for anything but visitors.
And she hated how the cushions slipped to end up in an angry pile on the right side of the thing.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to go back. Hero or not, he liked it here. They wouldn’t be the first team to fail at their mission and instead enjoy a life of luxury on this planet.
But he wouldn’t do anything to ruin things for Inky. Their captain believed in this mission with every barb on his tongue, and Blinky loved his brother as much as he loved Sarah.
They would deliver the Revelation. Sarah would help them.
And Blinky would deal with the rest as it came.